


I See The Tip Of The Iceberg, And I Worry About You

by junkster



Category: Freaks and Geeks
Genre: Friendship/Love, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 10:48:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5453930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junkster/pseuds/junkster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick's basement is a place of refuge; a sanctuary. Sometimes the other two just need somewhere to hide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I See The Tip Of The Iceberg, And I Worry About You

**Author's Note:**

> Title pinched from Rush's 'Distant Early Warning'.

For tonight he’s got both of them in the basement, and that means he can relax. His dad’s away for a couple of days, it’s Friday night, and all’s well with the world. Except that Daniel’s covered in bruises and Ken’s parents have changed the locks and gone on vacation without even fucking telling him, so Nick’s trying his damnedest to give them some semblance of safety and security. 

He looks up from his position on the floor to the couch where Daniel’s lying on his back with his head in Ken’s lap, sound asleep. Sitting in the corner, Ken’s got one hand buried in Daniel’s hair and the other holding a joint, his eyes glazed and staring way over Nick’s shoulder somewhere. 

_You wanna get high?_ Nick had asked him earlier, patting down his pockets for a lighter.

_Yeah._ Ken had answered, not meeting his eyes. _Oblivion sounds good right now._

Nick is so, so glad they come to him when shit happens. He has nightmares about Daniel getting drunk and driving himself into a tree; of Ken taking one too many of his cousin’s posted pills and potions. He knows how easy it would be to lose one of them. 

**********

Daniel had come first, hammering on his door just as the sun was going down, hat pulled low against the snow that was starting to fall. Wild eyed and freaking the fuck out, he’d barged past Nick and begged him to lock the door, watching him with a hunted posture. And hunted was the word - turned out a bunch of Lincoln jocks had taken offense to him chatting to one of ‘their’ girls, apparently just a good excuse to beat on a guy from McKinley. 

Closed off and angry, Daniel had flung himself down on the couch in the basement and rubbed a hand over his ribs, shifting every few minutes in discomfort. Nick had given up trying to get him to talk about it and put Meddle on, congratulating himself on the choice when Daniel couldn’t help but smirk at the sentiment in One Of These Days.

_How’d you get away?_ He’d asked eventually, the tension radiating off Daniel making him fidgety.

_I ran._

_Did they follow you?_

_Yeah. I just...I just kept running, man. I knew you’d be here._

By the time the doorbell rang, an hour or so later, he was almost back to his usual self, eating salt and vinegar chips and knocking back the beer Nick had stolen from his dad’s stash. Mid-way through a conversation about the girl in question who’d unwittingly caused the whole scene, Nick had looked towards the stairs, surprised by the chimes.

_You expecting Ken?_ Daniel had asked, chips frozen half-way to his mouth.

Nick frowned. _No. Not tonight._

On the way up the stairs he’d panicked momentarily that it could be his dad, back early, or that maybe those jocks had tracked down Daniel, but when he finally opened the door the realisation of who was actually on the other side had slowed his racing heart with immediate relief. That was, until Ken had found it hard to look at him as he’d spoken.

_Hey, um...can I come in, man?_

On edge immediately around the one person who never put him on edge, Nick had stared at him, standing there in the snow without a coat, or a scarf, then reached out to grab the front of his shirt and pulled him inside into the warmth of the house, taking a cautious glance up and down the street before closing and locking the door again. When he’d turned, Ken had just been standing there, looking as lost as Nick had ever seen him. 

_They’ve gone to Florida?_ He’d echoed in disbelief as they headed for the stairs. _Why the hell did they change the locks?_

Ken had brushed snow out of his hair and wiped his wet hands against his jeans. _Someone tried to break in the other night. Guess it was a good idea._

_But they didn’t tell you or give you a new key or anything?_

Ken looked away with a shrug. _Guess they forgot._

When he’d appeared down the stairs behind Nick, he and Daniel had looked at each other with a lack of surprise that made Nick all the more determined to keep them under his wing for a while. 

_Hey. What happened to you?_ Ken had asked with a wry smile.

Daniel had grinned. _Got beat up over a girl. What happened to you?_

_Ah, y’know. I’m a figment of my parents’ imagination._

**********

Jack Bruce is singing the crescendo of We’re Going Wrong and Nick feels it like a punch to the gut, that incredible voice sending shivers down his spine, Ginger Baker’s drums rolling like thunder. He looks at Ken and finds those dark eyes looking right back at him, inscrutable behind an exhaled cloud of smoke. Unfurling from the tangle he’s twisted himself into, nerves jangling, Nick gets up from the floor and goes to rifle through his collection. He lifts the needle carefully as the song ends and places Disraeli Gears back into its sleeve, replacing it with The Dark Side Of The Moon. 

Speak To Me has run its course by the time he turns around, loping across the room to sit down by Ken’s side on the couch. Ken looks at him and offers him the joint, watching intently as he takes it from his fingers. Nick takes a long, deep drag and lets his gaze drop to where Ken’s hand is slowly stroking through Daniel’s hair, a painfully gentle touch that makes his chest constrict tightly and expels the smoke from his lungs quicker than he’d’ve liked. Daniel sleeps on, comfortable now. 

_You’re okay, aren’t you?_ he’d asked Ken earlier, looking at him with a dark, searching gaze. 

_Sure._ Ken had answered, his hand holding the hem of Daniel’s t-shirt up so he could see the bruises around his ribs, despite Daniel's protestations he was fine. _I’m okay._

_You sure?_ Daniel had repeated, batting his hand away lightly and flopping back down onto the couch. 

_Sure I’m sure._

_You’d better be._

Nick’s pretty sure Ken’s not okay, but he’s also certain that he’s gonna ply him with weed and beer and good music until he is. His dad, not the biggest fan of Ken (smart-assed) or Daniel (insolent), isn’t there to disapprove, and frankly Ken’s parents don’t give a shit where he is.

Ken’s parents, who’ve never shouted at him, never grounded him, never threatened him with military school, but who’ve also never really laughed with him, or held him, or loved him (except for show, at dinner parties, or school meetings). Somehow that kind of abuse by apathy is so much worse than anything Nick can think of.

He feels fingers fumbling against his own and blinks, watching as Ken plucks the nearly-dead joint from his hand and takes one last hit, eyes closing. And those fingers are still cold, Nick realises, reaching out to touch Ken’s wrist and feeling ice. 

He shuffles closer, right up against Ken’s side, and curls an arm around his back, pulling him in. Ken shivers and lets his head settle on Nick’s shoulder.

Nick turns his head, buries his nose in Ken’s curls and sighs. He's gonna have to get blankets. Food. More pot.

“You’re gonna stay here for a while, okay man?”

Daniel’s eyelids flicker as he dreams. 

Ken’s hand stills as he gradually relaxes against Nick’s side.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Thanks, man.” 

And Pink Floyd play on.

_Home, home again.  
I like to be here when I can. _


End file.
